


take what you need, now, honey

by fortymaliks



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF, Xtra Factor RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 13:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortymaliks/pseuds/fortymaliks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Nick's relationship is nothing serious yet, Matt isn’t in a hurry for it to be, and it’s nice.</p><p>It’s nice until One Direction comes off their tour, and Matt buzzes in to Nick’s place one day to be greeted at the door by a bright-eyed popstar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take what you need, now, honey

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I don't think I'll ever be able to stop shipping Nick/Harry and 2) I am in love with the idea of Nick with a boyfriend and happy and domestic and, so. This is me reconciling those two facts.
> 
> There are mild, mild, mild D/s themes in here, because Harry Styles.
> 
> Thanks to [xcarex](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xcarex/pseuds/xcarex) for the beta! Any and all remaining mistakes, of which I'm sure there are a lot, are mine.

Matt’s heard the rumours. It’s impossible to get away from them really, when you’re dating Nick Grimshaw. In the last year, Nick’s name in the media has often been accompanied by the name Harry Styles. Nick laughs off the questions in interviews, on the radio, on television. He pretends to find the jokes funny, the self-deprecating arsehole, but Matt knows him well enough by now to know that he doesn’t like being asked about it.

It’s for that very reason that Matt just lets it be. It’s strange, maybe, not to know the apparently public knowledge dating history of the person you’re seeing. A lot of things about dating Nick are out of the ordinary, and Matt’s perfectly fine with that. He’s not quite sure he’s fine with the idea that Nick’s last... whatever... was an international teenage sex symbol, but he’s trying to be. Hypothetically.

The thing is, it’s going well. Nick is sarcastic and funny, but the whole country knows that. What Matt’s learned over the last few months of knowing Nick is that he’s also kind of sweet. They go on dates, out in public, and though Nick holds a certain kind of celebrity status, they hold hands and do normal things. It’s nothing serious yet, and Matt isn’t in a hurry for it to be, and it’s nice.

It’s nice until One Direction comes off their tour, and Matt buzzes in to Nick’s place one day to be greeted at the door by a bright-eyed popstar.

It turns out that Harry Styles is really fit in person. That’s the first traitorous thought that slams its way into Matt’s head when Harry flings the door open like he’s always been there, like he belongs there, and gestures him in. Harry’s got his trademark curls pushed back in a headband, and he’s got the sleeves of a black henley shoved up to his elbows.

“Hi, mate,” he says, “Grimmy’s in the shower, he’ll be right out. It’s nice to finally meet you, Matt.”

He extends his hand, and Matt takes it. He thinks he does a good job of shaking it firmly, considering.

The rumours are true, it turns out, about Nick and Harry. Matt can’t decide if he’s angry, or awed, or surprised, is the thing.

Harry’s saying something, words slow and deep. Matt’s never really realized that his voice was so scratchy before. It doesn’t go with his face. It doesn’t go with the idea in his head that Matt has of a popstar, that voice. It’s a man’s voice, in a kid’s body. A kid who has probably slept with his boyfriend. Oh, good lord.

Harry throws himself down on Nick’s sofa, like he has the right. Like that’s not where Matt spends most nights watching bad television, cuddled up with Nick and Puppy. Harry is long and big; he takes up most of the space, and his lets his limbs drape over everything, like Matt’s never even been there.

“Nick’s told me a lot about you,” Harry says, smiling warmly.

That’s funny, Matt thinks, because he can’t say that the feeling is mutual.

And alright, it stings, a lot, the thought that Nick has been talking to Harry about him, telling him things about them. He imagines Nick describing their dates, Harry laughing at the trivial, silly places Matt’s taken him to. He imagines Nick taking the piss out of the time Matt won him a stuffed bear at a carnival, pictures him barely able to keep from laughing as he tells Harry how they’d called it Barney.

Suddenly, Matt needs to leave. He needs to have his space, and he’s about to excuse himself, fake having left his headlamps on, or something, but then he hears Nick’s voice from down the hall.

“Harry?” Nick questions, and Harry turns his head toward the sound, instinctively.

“Yeah,” Harry calls back, “Matt’s just got here!”

“Shit,” Nick swears from the bedroom, “alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. Matt, don’t leave! Don’t let him leave, Hazza!”

Harry’s eyes scrunch up like he’s confused, and he looks at Matt curiously, like he can’t imagine what Nick is on about, or why Matt would ever find this situation uncomfortable.

He’s not sure which reason he’d go with, if Harry asked. He supposes the fact that Harry’s name hasn’t ever been mentioned throughout their courtship would be the first one. Though, of course, Matt has never asked, so he’s not sure he’s got a leg to stand on there. There’s also the fact that Harry is proper famous. Matt works with famous people every day, he’s quite used to the idea of fame, and yet having actual Harry Styles standing in front of him is still throwing him a bit. He’s been with Taylor fucking Swift, for god’s sake. Then there’s just the fact that even if he’d known about Harry, and he was a normal bloke off the street, he’s still, apparently, an ex of Nick’s who is currently taking up residence in his spot in Nick’s flat, and that’s just not okay. Is it? He really can’t figure it out.

He finds himself nodding when Harry offers him a beer. Offers him one of Nick’s beers... Matt thinks he might even have bought that case, for christ’s sake. When he comes back from the kitchen, he can’t help but notice how huge Harry’s hands look on the bottle Harry hands to him, fingers spread out on the glass, touching Matt’s as he passes it over.

Harry is nothing but friendly, asking Matt about the show, telling him he’s watched it. He asks after Caroline, smiles as he backs up Matt’s claim that she’s amazing to work with.

By the time Nick appears, Matt’s almost calmed down, lulled into a false sense of security by Harry’s easy laugh and sincere words.

Nick steps into the doorway carefully, like he’s not sure what he’ll find there. Hopefully, Matt thinks, like he’s praying that Matt will still be there. The way his face looks utterly relieved when his eyes meet Matt’s make Matt’s heart beat a little more steady.

The thing is, it’s possible he’s never asked about Harry because he hasn’t wanted to know. He didn’t want to think about being compared to someone as self-assured as the Harry Styles he sees on telly, or the one he reads about. It’s been in the back of his mind the whole time, wondering if he’d be thrown over for a nineteen year old if the situation ever presented itself, and he hadn’t wanted to know the answer. So he hadn’t asked.

The way that Nick doesn’t hesitate now, though, when he comes into the room and sits on the arm of the chair that Matt’s sat in, helps. It helps a bit.

“I’m sorry,” Nick says immediately, his hand brushing Matt’s quickly, but not lingering. He says it softly, maybe so that Harry won’t hear, but he obviously does, because he tilts his head, curious, from the couch.

It’s nice, the acknowledgement that Matt’s not crazy, that he’s not overreacting. He doesn’t want to be that guy, and he doesn’t think he is. It’s nice to have the confirmation.

Matt shakes his head as he lifts his bottle and takes a long sip, lowers it, looks down into his lap. He doesn’t want to look at Nick, not yet, because the questions will come flowing, and he’d rather not do it in front of Harry. He definitely doesn’t want to look at Harry; at the way he’s glancing between Nick and Matt, eyes scrunched adorably, questioning.

“Nick,” Harry finally breaks the silence, reaching over slowly to set his beer bottle down. “You two have... talked about this, yeah?”

Nick laughs, sudden and hysterical, and Matt can feel Nick’s fingers digging into his arm. “Um, see, I haven’t exactly had the chance to...”

Harry cuts him off before he gets any further, standing up hurriedly.

“Fucking hell, Nicholas,” Harry makes the trip from the couch to the door in three seconds flat. The smile he throws at Matt isn’t sincere this time, it’s worried, tight and polite, and even Matt knows it doesn’t belong on his face.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry offers, sounding tired, suddenly, pulling the door open. “I didn’t mean to overstep, I just... Nick will tell you. He’ll... he’ll _explain_.” Harry aims a deadly and pointed look in Nick’s direction, and then he’s gone.

There’s silence for a long time, just the indignant sound of Puppy whimpering at the door after Harry’s absence and her sudden lack of a playmate.

“Here, girl,” Matt calls softly to her, but she doesn’t come, just stares at the door after Harry Styles, and that’s possibly more than Matt can deal with.

“Matt,” Nick says softly, squeezing his arm. Matt can’t be touching him right now, and he pulls softly out of Nick’s grip.

“It’s true, then,” Matt uses all his energy to meet Nick’s eyes when he asks, “You and Harry.” He’s not pleased with how vulnerable it comes out. Nick winces.

“Yeah,” he says softly, running a hand up through his damp, messy hair.

It’s confirmation, but it’s still not enough. “So, like, what, you were shagging?”

“It’s complicated,” Nick tells him.

“What do you mean, it’s complicated. It’s either yes or no, love, I don’t see what’s complicated about it...”

“That’s just it, isn’t it,” Nick says suddenly, spinning on him, “you don’t see, you don’t know anything about me and Harry...”

“Of bloody course I don’t, Nick!” Matt’s not proud of how his voice is raising now. He can see it happening, like an out-of-body experience, but he can’t stop it, he’s powerless. “Of course I don’t know anything about it, because you never fucking mentioned it, did you?”

Nick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He looks for all the world like he just wants to be somewhere else.

“I didn’t want you to leave,” Nick says, finally.

And that’s the thing with Nick, that Matt’s discovered over the past few months. Underneath his tough and sarcastic exterior is this vulnerability that can absolutely floor Nick, and Matt sees tiny glimpses of it. When Nick’s drunk and has his guard down, or when he’s talking to his mother at night, sometimes. In the way he lets himself love Puppy.

Matt is seeing it now, full blown. Nick’s open and honest, eyes pleading.

“And now?” Matt asks, because it’s the important part. “God, Nick, are you... you and Harry now?”

The fact that Nick can’t look him in the eyes is what has Matt fleeing the flat before Nick gets the chance to reply.

******

It’s radio silence for a few days. A few days in which Matt goes through the motions of his life contemplating the strange disconnect between the desperation of Nick trying to get him to understand, and the fierceness of him protecting whatever it is he had with Harry.

His nights are awful; the couch in front of his own television is suddenly uncomfortable, no warm body to press himself up against, no puppy to play an idle game of tug-of-war with.

He watches bad reality shows without Nick’s side digs, and it’s not as fun without his fake cynicism.

On the second night, he forgets himself for a moment and sends Nick a text because he can’t stop laughing at how a contestant’s cake has turned out on Bake Off. It’s what he would have done before, and he doesn’t even notice until it’s too late and he’s already pressed send.

He feels his stomach lurch a few moments later when his mobile buzzes with a response, just a “she’s rubbish” with an array of emojis afterwards.

He only makes it another hour before he sends a “come over” text.

Nick makes it to his place in twenty minutes. He doesn’t let Matt say anything when he opens the door; just shoves into the flat, kicking his shoes off as he goes. Matt lets Nick get him up against the closed door, seals their lips together, hard and fast.

Nick breathes his name, presses their foreheads together. His leg is slotted between Matt’s, a solid and steady presence. It’s only been a few days, but Matt’s missed it. He needs Nick, now that he’s had him for so long.

“Don’t,” Matt tells him, hands coming up to grip Nick’s biceps, desperately hoping he gets the picture. “Just, please.”

“Yeah,” Nick yanks on his shirt and they stumble backwards together, tripping down the hall and into Matt’s bedroom.

******

When he wakes up, Nick’s gone. A quick glance at the clock tells him that he’s a few hours into the Breakfast Show, so that makes sense. He flips the radio on as he passes it on his way to the kettle.

There’s a note underneath, a hasty smiley face drawn in sharpie, and Nick’s messy scrawl saying he’s got meetings until five or so, and then dinner with Pixie. The smiley face seems to be cautiously reassuring, Matt imagines, like Nick’s pleading with him to let everything be okay.

They hadn’t talked about Harry, they hadn’t talked at all, but Matt feels oddly better about it.

When his doorbell buzzes around noon, Matt almost doesn’t answer it. He hates solicitors, and he hasn’t ordered any take away. Mrs. Lawrence across the hall gets lonely, sometimes, though, and she likes to have someone to chat with. Nick finds it endlessly funny that Matt humours her.

It’s not Mrs. Lawrence, though, when Matt gets to the door.

It’s Harry Styles.

He’s wearing the same black henley that he’d had on at Nick’s house, but he’s got a beanie shoved down over his curls today. Despite how casual an outfit it clearly is, Matt still feels underdressed in the jeans and tee he’d thrown on after his shower. Harry wears casual well.

It’s possible that Matt stands blinking at him for way too long, because Harry laughs nervously, and shifts from one foot to the other.

“Grimmy told me you were off today,” Harry tells him, offering him a wide smile. “I thought maybe we could do something?”

Matt stares a beat longer, before he finds himself nodding and letting Harry in. He’s not sure if it’s the fact that Harry’s caught him so off guard, or if it’s the fact that it’s Harry Styles asking that’s done it. Either way, he’s let a popstar into his flat now, and agreed to... to what?

“Cute place,” Harry tells him, leaning up against the wall. “I don’t know if you had plans or not, but I thought maybe we could go shopping? Do lunch, maybe? There’s a new sushi joint I’ve heard good things about that I wanted to try in Camden. You up for it?”

Matt’s not trying to be rude, but like. “Don’t you have... things to do? Or, like. People?”

Harry doesn’t seem to take it as offensive at all, just grins, sheepish. 

“Mostly everyone is working. The boys,” Harry gestures in a way that Matt takes to mean ‘the rest of One Direction’, “tend to like to lay low for a few weeks when we come off of tour. I’m not really like that.”

Harry shrugs, crosses his arms across his chest, looks slightly embarrassed. “It’s cool, though, if you’re not... if you don’t feel like it.”

Matt’s heard stories about people wanting to take care of Harry Styles. He’s listened while Caroline has tried to explain what they’d had, why Harry wasn’t what the papers said about him. Matt has always laughed it off; imagine, someone as confident as Harry Styles needing to be looked after. He’d always been skeptical, because surely the kid who jetted off with Taylor Swift doesn’t need to be taken care of.

Now that Harry is standing in front of him, asking Matt to go shopping with him like he wants to be friends, Matt gets it.

“No, yeah, mate. That sounds,” Matt trails off, stops. Starts again. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Brilliant,” Harry’s smile nearly blinds him, as he slaps Matt on the back.

******

Now that he’s spent time with Harry (and no, Matt’s hysterical thoughts tell him, spending hours on the Internet staring at pictures of Harry’s developing biceps doesn’t count as “spending time with him”), Matt has to admit that he’s kind of awesome.

Matt is used to being approached on the street when he’s out with Nick. He’s used to being photographed, and even followed, girls shyly approaching and asking for pictures. Nick always smiles and obliges, but he rolls his eyes at Matt when nobody’s watching, and is very vocal later about how annoying he finds it all.

Being out with Harry Styles is another world entirely.

They’re okay on the street in front of Matt’s building. They wander down aimlessly toward the nearest train. It’s at the station that he hears the cut-off shriek of the first girl. She comes up, hands shaking, and asks Harry if she can take a picture with him. Matt would be willing to bet that the smile he turns on her is more powerful than the sun.

While that’s happening, several other people bustle over for a picture, until there’s actually a queue. Harry grins at each one of them, asks their name, and chats with them like they’re all the most interesting people he’ll talk to today. It’s only been twenty minutes, but already Matt’s started to feel impatient, and it seems like every time one girl skips off, babbling into her mobile about how she’s just met Harry bleeding Styles, two more appear in her place.

Matt is banished to the edge of the crowd with the mothers who are holding purses and jackets. He shifts from one foot to another beside a baffled father of fourteen year old twins who’ve burst into tears.

They’ve missed three trains already by the time Harry gives the crowd an apologetic wave and makes his way over to Matt. He doesn’t say anything, just grips him around the arms and pulls lightly, so that Matt’s following him across the platform, onto a car, and into a seat. Matt definitely notices the way Harry’s hand grasps his arm the entire time. His grip loosens as they fall into their seats, and he switches to rubbing lightly, briefly.

“Sorry about that, mate,” Harry says, finally letting his touch fall from Matt’s arm. There’s a tingling where he was touching him. Matt wonders if this is what the girls felt like. “I wish I could see them all, you know?”

Matt doesn’t know. Harry’s approach to it is so different from Nick’s that he’s never really considered fans anything more than annoying obstacles in the way of, for example, he and Nick getting a coffee.

“No worries,” Matt tells him. It’s a lie, though, there are worries.

Harry spends the few minutes of their ride on his mobile, frowning adorably at the tiny screen as his long fingers scroll through what Matt assumes are old messages. Matt spends the time trying not to watch him, as his silent breakdown continues.

He sends a quick “help” text to Nick, and then ignores the line of question marks he receives in response.

He spends the morning and then quite a bit of the afternoon being pulled in and out of stores. He starts out not saying much, just humming his opinion whenever Harry asks him about a certain shirt or a new hat. Matt doesn’t mean to let his guard down, but as the hours tick by, it just sort of happens.

He lets himself be charmed by the way Harry takes his opinion seriously. He puts a shirt back that is a ridiculous colour of magenta because Matt tells him not to buy it, even though Nick would probably give it a green light. Harry smiles trustingly at Matt, and as they move on to the next thing, Matt feels it all clicking into place.

He gets why Nick is in love with this kid; this kind, honest, _giving_ person. When Matt finally loosens up enough to joke around, Harry laughs at him, absolutely guffaws in this bright, unashamed way, and Matt can’t get enough of it. He wants to make Harry laugh like that all the time, make him clap his long, slender hands over his mouth. Matt’s a comedian, and the need to make people laugh is like air to him, but Harry is something different entirely.

They go out for dinner, when the sun gets low in the sky and Harry can’t carry any more shopping bags. Harry tells him stories about Los Angeles. He talks slow and steady, like he’s relaxed, and Matt finds himself mimicking Harry’s easy movements. He sinks down into his chair, sipping from his pint, and listens to a recount of the time Zayn Malik got drunk and hit on Meryl Streep at an afterparty.

He notices Harry touching him more; light brushes of his hand against Matt’s, a quick nudge of Harry’s foot against his under the table. He notices, but can’t say he minds.

By the time they get up to leave, Harry grabbing for the cheque and refusing to give it up, Matt’s not even ashamed to say he’s incredibly smitten.

It’s not until they’re in the back of a cab that Harry leans into his space, lips brushing his ear in a way that Matt’s sure isn’t accidental, and mutters to him, “let’s go back to Grimmy’s, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt finds himself agreeing. Harry nudges closer in the back of the car, slips a hand onto Matt’s thigh, and squeezes. He smiles like he’s content, letting his head fall back onto the seat. They ride out the drive in silence, but Harry’s hand on his thigh, his fingers spread wide, thumb idly swiping back and forth, lightly, give Matt a pretty good idea of what is going to happen when they arrive at Nick’s.

And, yeah. Matt is going to let himself have this. Matt absolutely deserves this.

Nick greets them at the door, so Harry must have sent him a warning text. There was a time in Matt’s life (that very morning, for example) when that would have bothered Matt, Harry having exclusive texting rights to his boyfriend.

Nick’s smirking, but they both know that there’s a hint of nerves beneath it.

“Well, how’d it go, then?” Nick aims his question at Harry, who shrugs easily.

“Mission accomplished, I’d say,” Harry says. He pushes Matt into Nick’s place with a hand low and firm on his back. Matt glances at Nick, and then back at Harry, and he knows he’s been played.

“Oh, bloody hell, Nick,” Matt tries for angry, but mostly lands on slightly affronted puppy. “You sent your popstar to woo me!”

“Aww, mate, don’t be sore about it,” Harry says, and using the element of surprise, he presses Matt against the now closed door, and kisses him.

Matt can only flail for a second before he melts into it, Harry’s soft lips ghosting over his, before pressing more firmly. He’s biting at Matt’s bottom lip, so Matt opens up and lets him in. He isn’t proud of the small sound he makes as Harry licks inside, pressing and biting his way in with what Matt’s sure is triumph.

“Christ, Harry,” Nick is saying, somewhere behind Harry, but Matt can’t see him and doesn’t quite feel like opening his eyes to look right now.

Harry presses in closer, hips lining up with Matt’s. He can’t help but bring his hands to rest in the dip of Harry’s back. He tilts his head, and the kiss gets better. Harry makes a pleased noise, moves to work a knee between Matt’s, but he doesn’t quite make it before he’s being pulled back and off.

Matt opens his eyes to see Nick’s arm wrapped across Harry’s chest from behind.

“Alright, alright,” Nick breathes. Harry’s hands come up to swat Nick off him, but Nick grabs at them in a practiced kind of way until he finally catches one around the wrist and holds fast.

“Now, now, Grimmy,” Harry says, quietly, going still in Nick’s grip. He licks his lips, turns his head to catch Nick’s eye. “A little late to be jealous, I think.”

Nick chuckles at that, lets Harry go to shove him forward, further into the apartment and towards his bedroom.

“Just don’t want to be left out, that’s all,” Nick says, “let’s go, Haz. Bedroom, like a good lad.”

Harry goes, stumbling ahead of them. He’s dropping clothing as he goes. Matt sees his shoes come off, and then his shirt before he gets to the door of Nick’s room and disappears inside.

Nick hangs back, rest a hand on Matt’s arm.

“Hey,” he says, “Matt, if you’re not sure about this...”

Nick’s looking at him like he’s giving him an out, and. Fuck that.

“I’m sure,” Matt says. He reaches out and take Nick’s hand. “He’s...”

“Yeah. Can’t wait for you to see...” Nick trails off, and that’s that.

When they get to the bedroom, Harry’s naked already. Matt’s entirely unprepared for how tan he is, long lines, cut in all the right places. Miles and miles of skin, spread out on Nick’s duvet like he’s done it a hundred times. (He probably has.)

Matt only has a moment to feel the bottom drop out of his stomach. He wonders, in a split second, why Nick is satisfied with him when he’s had this. Could still have this. Is currently getting this. He only has a moment, because then Nick’s kneeing his way onto the bed, pulling Harry into his lap, his back to Nick’s front.

Matt has quite the spectacular view from where he’s standing; Harry’s legs spread further when Nick widens the vee of his. Harry’s hands are resting on his own thighs, like he trusts Nick to do what he wants. Nick’s arms are stretched around to Harry’s front, ghosting lightly over his abs. Harry’s cock is hard, flushed deep and probably aching. He’s huge, and Matt’s not surprised. Harry doesn’t touch himself, and he’s not sure how he’s managing it. He gets the idea, suddenly, that Harry’s not supposed to touch himself, like this is a rule that Nick’s got, or something.

He remembers nights with Nick, just the two of them, and Matt working Nick up to see just how far he could push him before Nick snaps, holding him down into the mattress, barking out orders like, “stay still”, and he knows that this is like that, but more.

“Nick,” Harry lets the name fall from his mouth, “Nick, please. Touch me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Haz,” Nick asks, softly, but he meets Matt’s eyes and Matt knows he’s meant to hear it. “You’d love me to show Matt just how much you need it.”

Harry’s eyes snap open and meet Matt’s across the room.

“Yeah, please,” he says. His fingers tighten on his thighs, leaving white marks in his flushed, tan skin.

“Shh, alright, love, I’ve got you,” Nick drops a hand to wrap around Harry’s cock, squeezing but not really moving it yet, and Harry drops his head back onto Nick’s shoulder and whines, low in his throat. Matt watches Harry’s eyes slip closed, and doesn’t miss the fondness in Nick’s, either.

Nick starts a slow slide up and down Harry’s cock, pulling more noises from him. Matt’s frozen in place, watching them. The way they’re positioned, Nick holding Harry in his lap, is clearly to make him feel included, but he doesn’t, entirely, not yet. He feels like they’re showing him this, what they have, and that he’s allowed to be there. He’s allowed to know this secret about Harry Styles, about how he begs for it. And that’s...

Matt can’t decide whether to stare at the long column of Harry’s throat, or at Nick’s hand, huge and relentless when it works Harry over. He’s as hard as Harry is, now, as hard as he knows Nick is in his jeans, underneath his lap of writhing popstar.

“Open your eyes, Harry,” Nick snaps, suddenly. Harry does it with a gasp and pushes his hips up, like he can get more friction from Nick’s hand that way. Nick slows his fist, and uses his other hand to press firmly on Harry’s stomach, holding him in place.

“Look at Matt,” Nick says softly in Harry’s ear, ignoring the quiet “please” that falls from his lips. Harry does, his gaze coming up and landing on Matt’s. His pupils are blown wide, eyes half-lidded, but he locks them on Matt’s and keeps panting through Nick’s ministrations.

Matt watches him like that for more time than he thinks is necessary, but he figures that Nick knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s been Matt’s experience that Nick usually does, when it comes to matters of sexual prowess.

He makes Harry squirm and moan for a few minutes more, never taking his eyes off Matt’s, because, Matt thinks, fuck, because Nick’s told him not to.

When Harry starts begging again, his voice is wrecked, scratchier than normal.

“Nick, please, I need...”

“Do you need to come, Harry?” Nick asks. Matt watches him flick his thumb over the sensitive head of Harry’s cock, once, twice, before he speeds up.

Harry chokes out a “yes, please”, and Nick hums, like he’s considering. Harry’s fingers are gripping his thighs so tightly now that Matt knows there are going to be bruises.

Nick kisses the side of Harry’s temple.

“I think we should let Matt decide, yeah?” Nick raises an eyebrow at him, sharing this with him, pulling him in.

Overwhelmed is an understatement. Matt’s pretty sure there isn’t even a word for what he’s feeling right now. He thinks he’s drowning under all of this, under the power of the look Harry turns on him now, the pleading eyes, his jaw twitching.

“Matt,” Harry pants, quietly, cheeks flushing, “please, Matt, can I? Can I, please?”

Nick’s beaming at them both, proud. Matt nearly chokes on his words in his hurry to get them out.

“Yes, fuck, Nick, just... yeah, Harry, yes, do it.”

Harry sobs with relief as Nick grins and speeds up, jacking Harry in earnest. It only takes a few more strokes before Harry’s body goes taut against Nick’s, and he’s coming over Nick’s fingers and up his belly. Nick pulls him through it, only relinquishing his grasp when Harry starts to whine, oversensitive. Harry sags back against Nick’s chest, as Nick cards a hand up through his curls.

“Thanks,” Harry says softly, and it takes Matt a moment to realize that he’s talking to him.

Harry slides off of Nick’s lap and sprawls out beside him on the bed, stretching his muscles out, as Matt stammers out a, “don’t mention it, really.”

Nick laughs, brightly, fondly.

“Were you planning on joining us at any point, Richardson?” Nick’s voice is mocking, but not unkind.

“Get over here,” Harry slurs, contentedly, “and lose the clothes.” Harry pushes up tiredly, and drops a kiss to Nick’s lips, the first one Matt’s seen them share.

“You too, Nick,” Harry adds as an afterthought, “s’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

“You know what else isn’t fair,” Nick huffs, sitting up and shucking his shirt, “is that you’re the only one who’s gotten off so far.”

“Is that so?” Harry smirks, and he turns to Matt again. “Well, come on!”

Matt’s still standing there, unsure of how to start moving. Harry’s words shake him out of it though, and he stumbles forward, shoving his jeans down to his ankles and stepping out of them. When he lands on the bed, Nick’s hands are there, pulling at his shirt and getting it up over his head. 

When the flurry of movement and confusion dies down, Matt is on his back between Nick and Harry, with only his pants on. Matt’s painfully aware of how his dick must look, hard and straining against the front of his boxers. Nick notices, too, and smirks, reaching down to brush a hand over him lightly.

“Harry,” Nick says, quietly, but in the firm voice that Matt is beginning to realize means an order, “help Matt out with this, would you?”

Harry hums his assent as he hurries to slide down Matt’s body. He drops tiny kisses as he goes, each one a hot focus point on Matt’s body, until Nick leans down and catches Matt’s lips in a hot, dirty kiss.

“He’s so good at this, you’ll see,” Nick says into his mouth, licking over his bottom lip before pulling back to watch Harry.

Harry’s got his hands in the elastic of Matt’s pants now, stopping briefly to mouth hotly at the head of Matt’s dick through the fabric. Then Harry’s tugging them off of Matt’s legs all in one go, and swallowing him down so that his nose brushes against Matt’s skin. He pulls off quickly, gagging slightly, but grinning. Nick laughs, and Matt makes to apologize, but Harry sinks down again before he gets the chance to, humming around him like he’s more pleased with himself this time.

Harry makes quick work of him, pulling up and off to lap at the head of his cock with expertise, before sinking back down and swallowing around him again. Nick lets his hands brush down Matt’s stomach, over his sides, and he mouths at Matt’s neck, sucking the occasional bruise, muttering encouragement, both to Harry and to Matt. It isn’t long before Matt feels the familiar coil in his belly, and when he opens his mouth to warn Harry, Nick smirks and claps a hand over Matt’s mouth.

Matt shouts into Nick’s hand when he shoots. Even without the warning, Harry manages to pull off just in time so that Matt doesn’t come in his mouth, but he gets stripes across his face, some catching in the corner of his ridiculously plump lips. Matt’s dick twitches again when Harry licks his tongue out to taste him, and he lets his head fall back on the bed with a groan.

Harry climbs up over him again, kisses him, slow and steady, before leaning up to kiss Nick the same way.

“Good?” Harry asks, but he’s not asking Matt, he’s asking Nick. Nick chuckles, and does the thing where he runs a hand through Harry’s curls again.

“So good, babe,” Nick tells him. Harry almost preens under the praise, lazy smile lighting up his face as he wriggles his way off of Matt and into the space between Matt and Nick.

Matt needs a moment, possibly an entire week of moments. Harry seems to have his wits about him, though, because he’s reaching down between their bodies to fist around Nick. Matt can’t see from this angle, not really, but he can feel Harry’s muscles shift as he jacks Nick off. He can watch Nick’s face, too, in a way he couldn’t really, if he were getting Nick off himself. It’s kind of nice, from this perspective, watching Harry press his forehead to Nick’s.

Harry presses kisses to Nick’s lips, quick and shallow, as he jerks him faster.

Matt can tell Nick’s right on the edge. He knows him well enough to be able to recognize the signs; the shallow breathing and the quiet curses. He wants, suddenly, to be a part of this. He wants to remind Nick that he’s still good for something.

Matt doesn’t have to lean over far to get to Harry’s lips, gently sliding his fingers into his hair and pulling him just a little bit, until he can lick into Harry’s mouth, inches away from Nick.

That’s what does it, Nick stammers out both of their names as his hips come off the bed as he rides out his orgasm. Harry’s hand works Nick over even as his mouth is still attached to Matt’s. Harry nips at Matt’s bottom lip as he comes out of the kiss.

“Nice,” he tells Matt, giving him another quick peck. Harry looks impressed, smirking like he didn’t know Matt had it in him, before pulling away and kissing Nick again.

Harry stills, finally, for the first time since they started whatever this is. Matt thinks fleetingly that it must be exhausting to be him, always moving, always involved, never stopping for even a moment, even in this. Matt admires that.

Matt watches, for a moment, the way Nick’s arms come up around Harry. The awed look on Nick’s face, like Harry can’t possibly be real, like he can’t believe he gets that. He watches until he can’t look anymore, and then he gets out of the bed, padding to the toilet to grab a warm flannel to wash up.

When he gets back to the bedroom, they’re sitting up, watching as Matt comes through the door like they’re been waiting for him to return.

“‘Bout time,” Nick huffs, making grabby hands in Matt’s direction, “Harry wouldn’t let me cuddle until you were back.”

Matt steps over to the bed, a bit thrown, and Nick grabs him and yanks him down, throwing a heavy arm across his middle. Harry reaches over to take the flannel from him, proceeding to wipe himself down before doing the same to the other two. Nick never loosens his grip, even when Harry finishes and settles down on Matt’s other side, shoving a leg between Matt’s and nosing into the back of his shoulder.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nick says, after a few long moments of comfortable silence. Silence in which Matt’s been contemplating how best to extract himself, to just let Harry have Nick, a self-sacrifice anyone would have to make after getting to know how they work together.

Matt just hums, frowning slightly. He moves to sit up, but Nick holds fast, and Harry grips his bicep tightly.

“You should just stop,” Harry mutters. “The whole thinking thing.”

“I kind of love you, you know,” Nick says, and Matt opens to eyes to see if Nick’s talking to him or Harry, but he can’t really tell. They haven’t ever said it before, but now it surprises Matt how much he wants Nick to mean it for him.

“Both of you,” Nick clarifies without being asked, narrowing his gaze at Matt. Harry giggles.

“He’ll get it eventually,” it comes out as mostly a yawn, as Harry snuggles down further, pulling the duvet up to his chin, “we’ll just have to keep reminding him.”

“Sounds like fun,” Nick mutters. His eyes are closed, and his breath is starting to even out in the way that Matt knows means he’ll soon be fast asleep.

Matt’s pretty sure he didn’t get a say in any of this, but hey. If Nick and Harry aren’t letting him go anywhere, he supposes he could be alright with it.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is from the Gaslight Anthem song [National Anthem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4DA_WCMrDh4).
> 
> //[tumblr](http://fortymaliks.tumblr.com)//[twitter](http://twitter.com/fortymaliks)//


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